Chapter 950: The Esteemed Lords, the Rolling Sands (Part 10)

Mi Fengjie, Fan Xiaochai, and one more—Xu Beizhi.

This was roughly the weight that the young Prince of Liang placed on Chen Shaobao of Liyang. If not for the second Liang-Mang war already unfolding, perhaps at the very least, the Youzhou General Huangfu Ping would have been added to the list.

But it was clear that the Left Sanqi Changshi of the Menxia Province wasn’t particularly grateful.

Throughout the journey north, Chen Wang and Xu Beizhi barely exchanged a word. Even Xu Beizhi—a man who could jest and banter with anyone in the political arena—eventually had no choice but to requisition a post horse from a relay station and ride alongside the two top spies of the Fushui Bureau, simply to avoid the awkwardness.

Before Xu Beizhi’s departure, Xu Fengnian gave him no elaborate instructions, only telling him to accompany Chen Wang into his hometown in Youzhou. There wasn’t even the slightest hint of an attempt to win him over. Xu Fengnian’s words were simple: *No matter what this man does within Youzhou, do not interfere.* Xu Beizhi naturally understood the hidden relationship between Chen Wang and Beiliang and had no objections. In truth, had anyone else been assigned this role, they might have done more harm than good with their good intentions.

The officials of Beiliang would likely never comprehend Xu Fengnian’s nuanced attitude toward Chen Wang, this scholar of Beiliang. Nor would they ever know just how much Chen Wang had contributed to Beiliang over the past decade—or how deep his disappointment in Beiliang ran. The crux of the matter was that this disappointment wasn’t a matter of right or wrong on either side, and that was what made it most fatal.

At dusk, they passed a small relay station named Ruyi. After disembarking, Chen Wang entered the station with the taciturn young eunuch who served as his coachman. Xu Beizhi and the other two also handed their mounts over to the station attendants to be stabled and fed. Unless something unexpected occurred, they would lodge here for the night.

Because Mi Fengjie presented the Fushui Bureau’s token, the Ruyi Relay Station treated them with exceptional care, arranging food and accommodations according to the standards of a border army captain. For the relay stations of Beiliang, spies from the Fushui and Yangying Bureaus were rare guests, but once their identities were confirmed, they were often figures carrying critical military duties—not to be slighted. According to Beiliang law, in emergencies, only the provincial general in command of all military forces and the spies of these two bureaus had the authority to requisition relay horses for urgent dispatches or take full control of the station’s armed forces.

With roughly two days left before reaching Chen Wang’s hometown—and since Xu Beizhi wouldn’t be accompanying Chen Shaobao all the way—the man once mockingly called *Beiliang’s Chen Shaobao* and former governor of Lingzhou once again picked up a jug of Lüyi wine and sought out Chen Wang.

Strangely, every time Chen Wang stayed at a relay station, he chose to rest in the station tower. Though it offered a commanding view, it was hardly a comfortable place to sleep.

When Xu Beizhi found him, Chen Wang was standing by the window, gazing into the distance. Only when Xu Beizhi pulled up a crude stool and sat down did Chen Wang snap out of his thoughts. With an apologetic smile, he took a seat on the edge of the makeshift wooden bed hastily prepared by the station. The bedding, at least, was fresh and clean.

It was hard to imagine that a man of such renown in court, already holding a high-ranking position in the central government, would stay in such a cramped, dimly lit place—especially when Chen Wang was not some disgraced official exiled to the borderlands by the imperial court.

Xu Beizhi shook the wine jug and asked with a grin, “Not drinking? If not, I’ll be the only one enjoying this.”

Chen Wang hesitated, then shook his head. “There are many banquets in the capital, but I rarely drink. Given your wisdom, I’m sure you understand why.”

Xu Beizhi chuckled. “But aren’t we in your hometown now?”

Chen Wang still refused. “People like me fear the words *what if* the most. Over time, it becomes habit. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Xu Beizhi sighed. “No wonder there’s only one Chen Shaobao in Liyang.”

Chen Wang, unusually, joked back, “And who exactly is this *Beiliang’s Chen Shaobao* you speak of?”

Xu Beizhi took a swig of Lüyi wine and wiped his mouth. “So even you’ve heard of my reputation?”

Chen Wang nodded. “I hope you don’t take it as an insult.”

Xu Beizhi grinned. “I wouldn’t say I’m honored, but I certainly don’t feel insulted. And since I’ve only had one sip, this isn’t drunken talk—it’s the truth.”

Chen Wang studied this young but much-traveled outsider to Beiliang and said softly, “The Ministry of Personnel and the Ministry of Revenue both have extensive secret dossiers on you, which I’ve read multiple times… Since you called this place *hometown*, I’ll make an exception and borrow your wine to say something I’d normally keep to myself. After the Xiangfu era, a new custom emerged in the capital’s political circles—ranking Beiliang’s civil officials in eight categories: learning, ability, reputation, family background, and so on. It was a *local assessment* that the Ministry of Personnel would never actually oversee. And you, sir, topped the list. Deputy Jinglueshi Song Dongming, Jinglueshi Li Gongde, Liuzhou Biejia Chen Xiliang, Youzhou Cishi Song Yan, Huang Shang of the Qinglu Academy, and Wang Xihua—whom Yao Baifeng once praised as having the talent of three cishis—all followed behind you. Of course, the recent rise of *White Lotus* has shaken things up, but even he remains beneath you.”

Chen Wang paused, locking eyes with the man leisurely sipping Lüyi wine—the once-grandson of the Northern Court King of Beimang—and continued slowly, “So your name, sir, echoes far louder in Tai’an City than you might imagine. I once tallied it—during small court sessions in the Yangshen Hall, His Majesty personally mentioned you more often than any other Beiliang official. I even joked with the Minister of Personnel, Yin Maochun, that if we could recruit you to the capital in the third year of Xiangfu, he could skip half a year of duty at the Ministry of Personnel in the fourth year.”

Xu Beizhi wiped the wine from his lips and clicked his tongue. “That Xu Fengnian really is something. The Fushui Bureau must have records of all this, yet he never breathed a word to me.”

Chen Wang smiled. “Aren’t you going to ask why I’m telling you this?”

Xu Beizhi waved it off. “No need. I know you’re not the type to recruit people. And I’m sure you know I’m not the type to serve three masters. Working for that Xu fellow in Qingliang Mountain, the best I can hope for in this lifetime is to become the Jinglueshi of Beiliang. That’s the last of my ambitions.”

Chen Wang shook his head. “You’re mistaken, sir. For both public and private reasons, I actually hope you’ll go to Tai’an City.”

Xu Beizhi, who had just raised the wine jug, set it back down. His gaze turned sharp and cold as he stared at the man reputed to be more influential in Liyang’s court than even the Zhongshu Ling. “For you, Chen Shaobao, to be so devoted to the state is truly unexpected.”

Chen Wang replied calmly, “In my view, Beiliang can still defeat Beimang without you. But if the imperial court gains a Xu Beizhi—seen as the right-hand man of the Prince of Beiliang—it would greatly stabilize the hearts of the Central Plains.”

Xu Beizhi’s heart jolted. “Has Tai’an City already become so unstable?”

Chen Wang didn’t answer, his expression grave.

Xu Beizhi stood, placed the half-empty jug on the stool, and turned to leave. “Thank you for your words, Chen Shaobao.”

Some words, like the ripples from a dragonfly skimming water, reveal the vastness of the sea.

What Chen Wang said about Xu Beizhi alone was, in truth, a glimpse into the state of the capital—or the entire Central Plains.

How Beiliang would proceed from here hinged on these words, which laid bare the bottom line of the Liyang court.

Chen Wang didn’t rise to see him off, nor did he watch Xu Beizhi leave. Instead, he added an offhand remark: “Pass a message to the Prince of Beiliang for me. He shouldn’t have stood by and done nothing back then.”

Xu Beizhi halted. “Had the Fushui Bureau intervened for that woman, you wouldn’t be sitting here today, Chen Shaobao. Perhaps you’re unaware, but the Zhao Gou of Liyang had been watching her for twelve years. It’s even possible those Youzhou noble scions were secretly incited by them. Had the Fushui Bureau acted rashly, your identity would have been exposed. Beiliang’s dilemma…”

He trailed off. Anything more would be superfluous.

Chen Wang stood by the window, silent.

Long after Xu Beizhi had left, Chen Wang remained staring into the distance.

One glance, two glances, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand glances at his hometown.

But he could no longer see *her*.

No longer see her watching him as he studied, lifting his head to meet her gaze.

Scholars are all heartbreakers, most of all to those who love them truly.

Tears blurred his vision as his lips moved faintly.

*Chen Wang wishes only that he had never passed the imperial exams, that he had returned home in disgrace.*

※※※

Outside the Ruyi Relay Station, at a street corner, stood a well with a massive wooden winch that required two strong men to draw a single bucket of water.

The young eunuch serving as Chen Wang’s coachman, after leaving the station alone, paused at the sight of this well—an uncommon sight in the Central Plains. He studied the crude, rustic mechanism with fascination, as if this rough-hewn contraption held more allure than the towering palaces of Tai’an City, its lavish imperial gardens, or the ancient trees older than Liyang itself.

Before long, a young man with a sword at his waist approached the well.

The two stood within half a zhang of each other.

The newcomer’s life hung by a thread.

Even if he was Xu Fengnian.